


Swamp Fever

by Jaakkola



Series: Jaakko Listened to a Song and Wrote About It (and Now That's Your Problem) [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Fights, Injury, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 22:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: "Y'know, Shaw, I'm gonna be real with you. I think I'd rather have been sacrificed to an evil blood god.""You'll get over this," Shaw said."I got ground bloodin my mouth,Shaw."





	Swamp Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Playing in Nazmir gives me big Pray For Death/Pray For Passing vibes from the Left 4 Dead games. So here's some Nazmir shenanigans.
> 
> Also I hate Nazmir.

Flynn wasn't one to say that things couldn't get worse, because quite often it was proven that they could, but right now? It was hard to see how "about to be sacrificed to an evil blood god" could get any worse, besides the obvious "sacrificed to an evil blood god."

Flynn was dangling by his wrists, a good few feet off the ground. His arms ached while his wrists were rubbed raw from the rope. He had lost his coat somewhere, not that it did him any good in the Nazmir swamps, but he liked that coat, dammit. Sweat covered every inch of his body, and he couldn't tell if it was more from the suffocating humidity or if it was from the fact that if a miracle didn't come soon, he was going to just be another puddle of blood that soaked the ground. Flynn cursed under his breath, the damned forests of Drustvar seemed like a walk on a scenic route compared to this place.

At least he wasn't alone in this horror, Flynn thought as he glanced over to the Zandalari troll that was struggling to get out of his similar bindings to the right of Flynn. He had been at it for nearly an hour, to the point that Flynn had to admire his dedication. _"Keep at it,_ mate," Flynn said in Zandali, _"you'll break free soon."_

The Zandalari troll looked over at Flynn, seemingly surprised, before he scowled at the pirate. _"I don't know about you, but I don't wanna be sacrificed to a crazy loa!"_ The troll spat out.

_"You think I like being in this situation?"_ Flynn asked, trying to gesture with his hands from where they were bound above him.

_"Enough talking!"_ Hissed a voice, startling Flynn. A gangled blood troll woman moved towards them, a spear in one hand and a sizable machete in the other. She looked at the Zandalari troll with a look of contempt and disgust, showing off bloodied and oranged teeth. _"I'm sick of you and your moving, your bones gonna be used now!"_ She reached up and sliced at the ropes that held the Zandalari troll's wrists together, the troll crying out in such a way that told Flynn that she got more than rope in her swing. He fell into the bloodied mud that lied beneath the two, covering his skin in slick red. The blood troll woman grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him along the ground. She threw a look over her shoulder, a menacing glare towards Flynn as she snarled, _"you be next!"_

_"Take your time!"_ Flynn called after the two, trying to ignore the sickening feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, _"I'm not going anywhere!"_ Oh god, he really wasn't going anywhere, he realized as the blood troll dragged the panicked Zandalari off to a different part of the camp. Not unless-

"You making friends, Captain Fairwind?"

"Shaw, you beautiful, timely bastard." Flynn twisted himself to see Shaw standing a few feet away, arms crossed with just the barest hint of amusement on his face. Flynn's sword belt, which had been quite rudely torn from his person by a blood troll, was around Shaw's waist, along with his cutlasses and his pistol. "I am _never_ volunteering for when you're missing your emissary _ever_ again."

Shaw shook his head and walked towards the wooden pole Flynn was suspended from. "Perhaps you should keep a better eye on your surroundings."

"I looked around, Shaw, and I don't like anything I see." 

Shaw moved out of Flynn's field of view, which, for a fleeting moment, made Flynn's nerves shoot up again. He twisted himself around a bit more, causing the rope he hung by to start a slow rotation. Shaw pushed on the post, and finding that it was firmly stuck into the mud, began to scale it with a surprising ease. "You're like a bloody cat," Flynn commented, "quiet, climbs things, very judgmental face..."

Shaw elected to ignore Flynn. "I wasn't aware that you knew zandali, Captain," Shaw said as he hauled himself to the top of the post, perched rather precariously now as the post shifted slightly. Flynn heard Shaw unsheathe a dagger from above him. "Where did you learn it from?"

"Ah, y'know." Flynn shrugged as much as he could in his current position.

There was a pause. "No. I don't." Shaw began to cut at the thick rope. "That's why I asked."

"The mighty Master Shaw doesn't know something? But that's your entire job!" Flynn grinned as he heard Shaw let out a deep exhale that he tried very hard not to make a sigh. "Came across plenty of Zandalari trolls while freebooting. If you know Zandali, there's only like a ninety percent chance they'll try to kill you."

"And how's that working out for you, Captain?"

"It went great that one time, but blood trolls aren't much for--" Flynn's train of thought ended abruptly as the half cut rope snapped in two, sending Flynn to the ground before either man expected him to. He tried to land on his feet, but the sudden weight on them made his knees buckle. Flynn only got the briefest moments of panic before he was face first in what he wholeheartedly hoped is just a puddle of red mud.

That hope is dashed rather quickly with the earthy and metallic taste in Flynn's mouth. Flynn managed to lift himself out of the mud with his wrists still bound together, and sputtered, "oh god, I got some in my mouth." Shaw hopped down beside Flynn, putting a firm hand on Flynn's arm and helping him onto his feet. "Y'know, Shaw, I'm gonna be real with you." Shaw began cutting at the rope still tightly wrapped around Flynn's wrists. "I think I'd rather have been sacrificed to an evil blood god."

"You'll get over this," Shaw said.

"I got ground blood _in my mouth,_ Shaw."

"And you may yet still live to complain more about it." Shaw's dagger pulled through the binds, and Flynn let the rope fall to the ground.

Flynn rubbed at the red and raw skin of his wrists before trying to wipe off as much of the mud as he could. "Thanks, though," he said to Shaw.

"We still have a task at hand to complete." Shaw unbuckled Flynn's sword belt and handed it to the pirate. Flynn took it, grateful to have his cutlasses and flintlock back at his waist.

"You don't happen to have my coat hidden away somewhere, do you?" Flynn asked as he buckled the belt. The front of his shirt and pants were soaked with warm, bloodied mud. Flynn wondered for a moment if it being cold would be better, but didn't dwell long enough to come to an answer.

Shaw frowned, "your coat isn't important, Captain Fairwind."

"Maybe not to you, but I liked that coat, and I'm not leaving this place without it."

Shaw continued to frown at Flynn.

"You're not judgemental-face-ing me out of my coat, Matty." Flynn crossed his arms, the mud on his shirt front making a weird squishing sound during the motion.

"Don't call me that," Shaw said.

Flynn ignored him. "I don't think you could talk me out of my coat neither. Or my pants, for that matter." Flynn enjoyed the way Shaw's eyebrows shot up his forehead before he could reign his expression back into control.

"Captain Fairwind," Shaw warned, trying to be as patient as possible, "I ask you to just be serious about the situation at hand."

"I am being serious; I don't think you could-"

"Captain Fairwind!" Shaw interrupted. Any lecture he had lined up, however, never came out, as the screeching of a blood troll woman startled the two from their discussion.

_"The sacrifice is escaping!"_ She yelled out, catching the attention of two other troll women.

"Great." Flynn muttered, drawing his off hand cutlass.

Shaw unsheathed his daggers. "Perhaps you will a lesson from all this."

Flynn scoffed, pulled his flintlock out from behind him, and aimed. "Doubtful." Flynn was a decent shot drunk, and an even better one sober, but he had a feeling that he was going to be pushing his luck far more than he'd really want to. He aimed low and fired, the bullet tearing through the first troll's leg. She let out a pained cry, stumbling a bit as she was now forced to move slower. Flynn turned his sights to the troll to his left, the one closest to Shaw. He pulled the trigger, watching the bullet tear through the troll's side.

Shaw sidestepped Flynn, pulling a throwing dagger out that found it's place in the chest of a blood troll just a few feet from Flynn. Flynn holstered his gun and drew his other sword, taking a step and slashing upwards towards the troll. He just missed the troll, and she let out a terrifying shriek towards Flynn. The troll jammed her spear towards Flynn, Flynn barely catching the tip with his sabers. She did his best to jam her spearhead closer, hissing as she did so, her foul breath smelling of blood and rot. Flynn gritted his teeth and pushed back against her. Flynn pulled a foot free of the sticky mud and jammed it into the side of her knee.

The blood troll buckled, leaving Flynn an opening to drive his sword into her chest. She made an unpleasant noise, a death rattle filled with a wet sound that makes Flynn grimace. Flynn turned on his heels to see Shaw slashing the throat of one blood troll, pushing her to the ground. Another troll lunges towards Shaw, leaving him flatfooted as he tried to duck. "Shaw!" Flynn called, turning to pull the throwing dagger out of the troll. He turned, throwing the knife towards the troll, and missing by a good foot and a half.

"Fairwind," Shaw warned, sounding angry.

"Oh, for the love of--" Flynn pulled his flintlock, pressing his luck. The shot tore through the cheek of the troll, and in response, she made a horrible, guttural sound, a hand letting go of the spear to feel the wound. Shaw wasted no time in rising to his feet and jamming his dagger into her throat. "That throwing thing is harder than it looks," Flynn said after a breath and the blood troll fell.

Shaw readjusted his left pauldron. "Like anything, it takes practice," he said through gritted teeth, "may we go now?"

"I still need my coat." Flynn pulled a cutlass out of the newly made corpse, sheathing both of them. "Did you find the thing yet?"

"No, I had to find someone else first after he got taken by blood trolls." Shaw threw Flynn a side glance.

"Like a bloody cat," Flynn muttered, reloading his flintlock.

Shaw ignored the comment, saying, "stay near me this time, Captain Fairwind, I rather get out of the swamp before dusk."

Flynn sighed, kept his flintlock at the ready, and followed Shaw through the shadows of the swamp.

* * *

Every step through the swamp camp sent them deeper in the blood soddened mire. One ghastly step led Flynn sinking his entire boot into the mud, forcing him to bite his tongue as the oozing slop poured in. What he would give to have it be snow instead. You never knew how good you had it until it was gone, the older men in taverns and inns would reminisce over a cup of mead, and by the tides, he never thought he'd be having that feeling about snow in his boots.

Talia hated that saying. And she was going to hate it even more when she badgered Flynn about Nazmir and that would be his response.

Flynn took a few steps towards a tree, the feeling of mud that most certainly wasn't just mud squishing around his foot making his skin crawl. He rested an arm against the thick trunk, raising his foot out of the mud and tearing the boot off with his free hand. Flynn tipped the boot over, watching the offending semi-solid drip out with the pace of a snail. Flynn frowned, shaking the boot to speed things up.

"Fairwind!" Shaw hissed from a few paces ahead of Flynn.

"Keep your bloody pants on, Shaw," Flynn whispered back at a not at all whisper volume, "just give me a minute." The last of the mud droplets that came out hit the ground, and Flynn sighed. It'd have to do for now. He shook his foot to get the last vestiges of mud clinging to his sock off, and put his boot back on. "See, not even a minute."

Flynn looked to Shaw, seeing his mouth drawn into a thin line of impatience. "If you're done," Shaw started. Flynn glanced off past Shaw, trying to figure out what was off in the distance. "We need to keep--" Flynn's eyes widened with realization, and he sprinted off across the clearing, past Shaw as he spoke. "Captain!"

"C'mon!" Flynn called over his shoulder. He eyed a group of blood trolls warily, but they were moving away from Flynn and where he was heading. No one so much as glanced in Flynn's direction, and that's all he needed as he reached the shallow pit of bodies. Flynn mumbled an apology as he rescued his coat from the pile, noting the bloodstains that were definitely not his blood on it.

"Great, you found it," Shaw said as Flynn tucked his jacket underneath his arm.

Flynn shot Shaw a grin as he bent down and unsheathed a cutlass. "Not just that, mate." Flynn used his cutlass to nudge aside a corpse, a poor Zandalari woman, to reveal a Darkspear troll that was partly underneath her. His Horde tabard was torn and tattered, and he had a messenger bag hanging off his body.

Shaw pulled the bag from the Darkspear troll, glancing at its contents. Flynn watched Shaw nod, looking pleasantly surprised. "Good eye, Fairwind."

"Why thank you, Master Shaw." Flynn rose to his feet and did a dramatic bow.

Shaw flashed a warning glance to Flynn as he pulled the messenger bag over his shoulder. "Please do not try my patience further than you already have today, Captain."

"But I'm so good at it!" Flynn grinned.

That time, Shaw did sigh. Flynn didn't hold back his laugh.

* * *

The sun was making its lazy decline from the sky as Shaw and Flynn trekked through the swamp. Flynn hoped that meant it would get colder, but he knew the change would be negligible at best. He wiped sweat from his forehead, looking to Shaw as he stopped, who was looking to the sky and staying silent for the moment.

"We should make camp," Shaw said.

Flynn frowned, saying, "you're joking, right?"

"We got another hour of walking on foot ahead of us," Shaw explained, "and while I much rather we push through the night, I remember that the biting insects get rather vicious once the sun sets."

"So you want to be out here with those things all night?"

"Fire, Captain Fairwind." Shaw turned towards Flynn, exasperation showing. Flynn noticed Shaw's hand clutching at his arm, below his pauldron. "They don't like the smoke."

"How's the arm?" Flynn asked. Shaw gave Flynn a critical look over, searching for something, Flynn doesn't know what. Perhaps an ulterior motive, considering what Shaw did for a living. But his hand moved away, eyes still on Flynn, and showed of the spear wound that was just below his pauldron. Flynn clenched his teeth, sucking in a breath. "When did that happen?"

"When you were throwing my knife halfway across Nazmir," Shaw replied, tone flat as his hand moved back to the wound.

Flynn gave Shaw a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

"It doesn't matter," Shaw said, "let's go, we're burning daylight."

The sun was ready to dip over the horizon by the time they found a sheltered spot to camp the night, an old fire pit marked by rocks. Flynn elected to go out and fetch wood, though finding dry wood proved to be a bit of a challenge for the best of his time. He returned with an armful of wood as the last bit of sunshine came through the trees, Shaw having started a fire with what was around.

"Take care of that wound yet?" Flynn asked as he set down the tinder an arm's length away from the fire pit. Shaw's very obviously not using his injured arm in keeping the fire up.

"Getting the fire up was the number one priority," Shaw's rather stoic reply came.

Flynn moved around Shaw, crouching down on the other side of him. "Well let me help you then," Flynn said, reaching for his coat.

"I can handle it myself, Captain."

"I'm not saying you can't, mate." Flynn pulled his flask from the inner pocket of his coat. "It's called being kind and helping out, it's what regular people do. You got a kerchief or something?"

Shaw looked confused, possibly baffled. "No?"

"Well then I'm gonna want this back when you're done with it." Flynn pulled off his own kerchief. It had been a gift from someone he once cared for during a simpler time, when it didn't feel like the world was ending every twelve minutes. Flynn wasn't usually one for sentimental keepsakes, but he found it hard to let go of, especially when it kept him warm during the chillier days in Kul Tiras.

Flynn opened his flask, poured about half of its contents on his scarf, and then took a swig of it for himself. He extended it to Shaw and capped it off when Shaw pointedly didn't take it, throwing it back on his coat. "Move your dumb pauldron," Flynn ordered. Shaw silently unstrapped the pauldron with his free hand, pulling it away for Flynn. Flynn glanced to Shaw, warning, "this is gonna sting like hell."

"I'm aware," Shaw replied. Flynn carefully placed his kerchief against the wound, Shaw sucking in a deep breath in response. Flynn regretted not being able to clean the wound, but without fresh water, there wasn't much he could do other than hope the alcohol did its job in killing whatever lived in this swamp. Again, Flynn longed for Kul Tiras, with its clear rivers and lack of blood trolls. Flynn wrapped the kerchief around Shaw's arm, tying it tight once he reached the ends.

"There you go, mate," Flynn said, moving his hands away.

"My thanks, Captain Fairwind."

"Don't mention it," Flynn grinned. The two sit in a comfortable silence, with Shaw tending to the fire and Flynn idly playing with his flask. The buzzing of bugs, the crackling of the fire, and the slight breeze of the air making all the sound between the two.

"Hey," Flynn said after a while, "thanks. For saving me from that." Shaw looked over at Flynn. "It wouldn't be right for a captain to die on land. Even less right to be sacrificed to a weird blood god."

Shaw let out the barest of a chuckle. "You're welcome, Captain Fairwind."

Flynn glanced over to the messenger bag that was neatly placed behind Shaw. "Oh, what was that intel I was nearly sacrificed over, anyway?"

"I haven looked it over yet," Shaw replied. Flynn reached over for the bag, stopped mid-motion only by the death glare Shaw shot him. "That's classified information, Fairwind."

"I was sent on this job to recover this information with you, and I don't even get to know what it is?" Flynn asked.

"Correct."

Flynn frowned, disappointed and annoyed. "Shaw, c'mon, mate."

Shaw took the messenger bag, making Flynn sit back now that the intel was in Shaw's hands. Shaw opened the bag, pulling out a thick envelope that was sealed shut with red wax. Flynn watched with waning interest as Shaw opened the envelope and pulled out its contents, looking it over. "It looks like you're in luck, Captain," Shaw said after a brief examination, tossing the papers into Flynn's lap, "I can't read Zandali, so I'd appreciate if you'd translate these out loud for me."

Flynn takes the papers in his hands, paging through them. "I'll do my best."

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing another fic in the middle of this one so that's how my self control is going. But I got a few ideas kicking around so keep an eye out for more soon.
> 
> Find me at turalyfun on tumblr.


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